I wince. That’s right. She hit her head last night. I almost put a hand on her shoulder but stop myself. “What can I do?” I ask instead.
She shrugs. “Nothing,” she whispers, her eyes closed. “I just need a second to sit in the quiet.”
That I can do. Sitting in the quiet is my forte, especially out here. I keep my ears tuned to the woods and lower myself to sit on the rock beside her, setting my toolbox on the ground.
“You don’t have to stay.” She pivots toward me, peeping an eye open while she massages her head. “I’m sure you have work to do.”
“Keeping people safe in these woods is part of my job,” I say lamely. I’m not staying because this is my job. Not even close.
For a few minutes, Stevie is quiet while I listen to the leaves rustle overhead. I’m trying not to think about the woman sitting next to me, who smells like apples and would probably punch a turkey in the face. She did everything right in that situation, actually. I’m impressed by how efficiently she scared him off.
“What are you smiling about?” she asks softly.
Am I smiling? I shake my head. “Nothing.”
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Come on. What?”
The corner of my mouth hitches. I don’t want to embarrass her, but I have to know. “What did you call that turkey?”
“Huh?”
“A minute ago, when you were”—I briefly mimic her turkey attack with my hands—”you know. What did you call him?” I think I know, but I want to hear her say it again.
“Oh.” She blushes under the sprinkling of freckles on her nose. “Um ... Butterballsy. That’s what I—that’s what I call him. Butterballsy,” she says again with a shy laugh. “I regret to admit that this wasn’t our first ... tête-à-tête.”
“I got that impression,” I say. I want to laugh because the nickname is a portmanteau sent directly from heaven, but I also have a renewed need for vengeance against that dang bird. I’m determined to find him. But that name?Butterballsy. I chuckle, thinking about it combined with his angry face and his long, indecent snood. It’s perfect. Stevie is funny.
She juts her delicate chin. “Don’t laugh. I did exactly what someone is supposed to do when a turkey charges.”
I’m trying to form a response when something chirps loudly in my front pocket. Stevie’s eyes tighten, and she cringes at my jeans. The distinctive chirping ringtone only grows louder.
Oh, crap. That’s her phone—in my pocket.
Chapter 6
Stevie
Ineed Adam to silence his phone before my head splits open. This post-concussion headache is no joke, and the run-in with that bully turkey only made it worse.
“Are you gonna get that?” I nod to the sound, kneading my temples with my fingertips.
“Oh ... uh. I think it’s yours, actually.” He leans back, fishing in his pocket to pull it out. That is indeed my phone. I can’t believe the battery survived the night. “I found it this morning. I was going to bring it back—”
I reach over, taking it and squeezing the button on the side to shut it up. I don’t know why he has my phone or who was calling me. I don’t care about anything but quiet right now. When the woods are peaceful again, I moan with relief and squeeze my eyes shut.
I can’t see him, and he doesn’t make any noise, but I can feel Shirtless Adam beside me. A woman doesn’t forget she’s sitting next to that particular torso. I’m trying hard not to think about how it felt to be carried against that bare chest. And he’s just sitting there, still as a mountain.
At some point I’ll have to open my eyes and thank him for finding my phone. I should go home and rest. But I didn’t come here only to find my phone.
When I woke up this morning and found that the dizziness had subsided, I grabbed my backpack, a few apples, and got in my car. If August asks why I’m not resting, I’ll use my missing phone as an excuse, but I want to find more sasquatch evidence before my friends send me on even one date. I’d like to stop that before it starts. And I have to win this bet.
“What are you doing out here?” His voice is rough, like I’m the first person he’s spoken to today.
“Finding my phone.” And hunting for a sasquatch, I don’t add. I’m anxious to look at my photos and send them to my brothers. It’s the first thing on my list once this headache goes away.
Adam doesn’t respond. He isn’t chatty, which makes me fidgety and nervous. I enjoy peace and quiet as much as the next high school teacher, but when I’m alone with a bare-chested man?
I wonder why he’s still hanging around. I’m not dying. It’s only a minor concussion. I can hear his soft breathing, it’s so quiet out here.